


A Piece of Action

by dracoqueen22



Series: Folly of the Brave [8]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Episode 24 Adjacent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 12:57:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16682041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: Mollymauk asks for a change of pace, and Fjord eagerly complies. It’s about time.





	A Piece of Action

It takes a lot to offend Mollymauk.  
  
He's loud. He's colorful. He's ostentatious. He's used to drawing attention and deflecting it, and making a general nuisance of himself.  
  
He's not at all offended by Fjord's reluctance to let him touch the falchion. But judging by the tension in the room after his refusal, Molly suspects Fjord thinks he might be offended, and that just won't do.  
  
Fjord's stripping in a contemplative quiet, his gaze distant. He's pulling it all off, though there's nothing erotic in the motion to imply he's interested in something fun. Boots and armor clatter to the side.  
  
Molly undresses, setting his clothes off to the side with a bit more care. He peels out of his boots, groaning a little as his feet clear them, and stares in dismay at the swamp gunk clinging to them. Swamp muck and troll acid. The life of a mercenary is a filthy one, and hard on one's wardrobe.  
  
Fjord pauses, hands on his trousers, and he glances over at Molly with apology in his eyes. "Molly, I hope you know that I--"  
  
Molly holds up a hand, interrupting him. He stands up, tail lazily swishing the air behind him. "You don't have to say it. I already know."   
  
He closes the distance between them and grins. "Besides, there's only one sword of yours that I absolutely feel like I have to touch." He reaches up, steals a quick kiss, and then pats Fjord on the cheek. "So long as that one's still open to me, I'm not offended."  
  
A flush darkens Fjord's face, and warmth emanates from it. "You can still touch that one," he says, and he jerks at the ties of his trousers.  
  
"See? Then we're all good." Molly grins brightly. "Same bed tonight?"  
  
Fjord licks his lips, his pupils dilated. "Yeah."  
  
Molly drags his fingertips down a thin happy trail of dark hair, stopping before he gets to the half-hard length rising below. "Meet you there." He spins and takes his hand away, laughing as he hears Fjord's grunt of annoyance behind him.  
  
He swats Fjord's knee with his tail -- gently, mind -- and crouches by his pack. He digs around in it, producing the small bottle of oil he keeps for important purposes. Behind him, the bed rustles and creaks, and there's a gloriously naked Fjord sprawled upon it as if in invitation.  
  
Molly nibbles on his bottom lip. "How about we do something different tonight?" he asks as he puts one knee on the edge of the bed, gliding his free hand down Fjord's nearest thigh. "Why don't you let me do all the work?"  
  
"That sounds like a right fine idea to me," Fjord rumbles, the darkness seeping into his eyes, his dick fully hard at this point and calling to Molly. "It's about time I get to lay back and take it easy."  
  
Molly snorts and pats him on the thigh. "I'll let you have that this time." He moves between Fjord's legs, which obediently part for him, and rubs the tip of his finger over Fjord's rim, before a thought occurs to him. "So. Weird question time."  
  
"Yes, I've done this before," Fjord says.  
  
Molly pauses, absorbs that, bats away a fierce surge of unexpectedly possessive jealousy. "Close," he says. "But not what I meant." He takes another moment to imagine who else has tapped this fabulous aft, but that possessiveness returns so he sets it aside. "So. I'm not going to lose my dick if I stick it in you, right?"  
  
Fjord rises up on his elbows. "What?"  
  
"I think it's a reasonable question!" Molly insists. "You did somehow consume a giant orb by shoving it into your belly today, after all. A guy can't be too careful when it comes to his tender bits!"  
  
Fjord's face goes through a variety of expressions before he settles on resignation. "That's a good point," he says. "But you're safe."  
  
"Safe is a matter of perspective, darling," Molly says as he rubs a small circle around Fjord's ring, watching him closely for a reaction, like those sharp inhalations and the flush of arousal spreading across his face. Those are good reactions. Promising ones.  
  
Fjord rolls his eyes and shifts his feet a little further out, opening himself to Molly’s touch. “Your dick is safe in my ass.”   
  
Molly laughs before he can catch himself, the situation being so absurd that it needs the venting of stress. “That’s better,” he says, and presses a little hard, Fjord’s pucker giving at a gentle touch and accepting the tip of his finger. “Mmm. Safe and warm and cozy, I’ll bet,” he purrs.   
  
Fjord groans and throws an arm over his eyes, head dipped back to avoid Molly’s gaze. “If you’re going to tease me about it, don’t think I won’t find a way to consume you after all.”   
  
“Interesting choice of words,” Molly says.   
  
Fjord goes a little stiff in his arms. Ah. Uncomfortable subject then. Probably about the falchion and whatever it has to do with his magical abilities. Molly suspects he has a pact with a god of some sort, but since Fjord doesn’t seem to realize it, he’s kept his mouth shut.   
  
Well, he’ll keep his mouth shut about this, too. It’s not any of his business what Fjord does or doesn’t know, or even if he wants to know or wants someone else to know. Molly’s only sticking his nose where it belongs and no further.   
  
Instead, he snags the bottle of oil he’s tucked nearby and drizzles it over his fingers, Fjord’s beautiful dick and scrotum. He uses too much, perhaps, as it ends up dribbling down the crease of Fjord’s hip and thigh, making his skin glisten like a green jewel. Molly’s running a bit low. Perhaps tomorrow he’ll find something he can use to replenish his stock at the Fungal Fount.  
  
He massages the oil over Fjord’s ass before he slips a finger inside with relative ease. Molly’s lips curl with approval, a burst of heat threading through his veins.   
  
“Ooo, you have done this before,” Molly murmurs. “I’m jealous.” The last slips out before he can stop it, but it’s already free, so he pretends it’s not important.   
  
“Been awhile, but yeah.” Fjord’s arm slips from his eyes as he rocks down against Molly’s finger, his muscles squeezing in a tight ripple. “Come on. More.”   
  
“So impatient,” Molly hums.   
  
A flush colors Fjord’s face, turning it a forest green. “Kind of worried I’ll fall asleep on you, to be honest,” he says. One hand smooths down his belly, only to pause before it reaches his dick. Like he’s waiting for permission.   
  
Oh, but the games they could play. Not tonight, of course. But another day? Yes, it is something Molly will certainly save to suggest another time.   
  
Molly chuckles. “Yeah, you did get a little roughed up today.” He slips in another finger, and Fjord’s body accepts it easily.   
  
Lovely.   
  
Molly slides a hand to his own length, giving it a squeeze. He’s throbbing with anticipation, but he tells himself to be patient. The last thing he wants to do is hurt Fjord.   
  
The half-orc sighs a moan, the muscles in his belly rippling, and Molly wants to kiss him very badly. He curves his fingers instead, twisting and searching until... there. Fjord goes liquid beneath him, thighs tensing, fingers tightening around the blanket. His back arches, his eyes dark with arousal.   
  
“Just do it,” Fjord groans and snags the pillow from beneath his head, only to abruptly tuck it beneath his hips. “I’m ready.”   
  
“Good. I am, too.” Molly grins and leans over Fjord, one hand sliding up his thigh to get into position.   
  
He presses their mouths together for a kiss, slow and savoring, and hands bury themselves in Molly’s hair, teasing the base of his horns. Not quite an erogenous zone, but close enough to it. Fjord deepens the kiss, tongues tangling, teeth leaving a faint pressure on Molly’s bottom lip.   
  
Molly kisses further, following the curve of Fjord’s jaw, into the crook of his neck, where he smells like sweat and swamp, not entirely unpleasant, but distinctly Fjord. Molly hums as he inhales before he aims himself and carefully sinks forward, tantalizingly slow, his dick swallowed by a welcoming heat.   
  
Or at least, he intends to take it slow. But Fjord grabs his hips and pulls him the rest of the way, until he’s fully seated.   
  
A frisson of heat dances along Molly’s spine. His head dips, weight adjusting for a better angle, and he shifts inside Fjord. Heat coils and tightens in his belly, throbbing out through his groin and into his dick.   
  
“So impatient,” he gasps out, again.   
  
“You’re taking too long.” Fjord curls a hand around the back of Molly’s head, pulling him down into a kiss that’s all heat and tongues and teeth.   
  
Molly groans into it, pleasure coiling at the base of his spine like a snake ready to strike. He’ll have to prove his stamina some other day, because he’s tired as well, and Fjord feels too damn good. He moves perfectly in tune with Molly, like he’s very familiar with the terms of this dance.   
  
Molly swallows down his jealousy. It has no place here.   
  
He shifts, shoves a hand between their bodies, and wraps his fingers around Fjord’s dick. He strokes him in squeezing pulls, dragging a helpless moan from Fjord’s lips, one that vibrates against Molly’s mouth. Fjord bucks up against him, hand pressing on the back of Molly’s neck, before he comes with a shudder and a splatter of wet heat.   
  
Molly sighs a moan and shifts his grip to Fjord’s hips, holding him in place so he can grind deep. Fjord rises to meet his thrusts, curling upward to match Molly’s position, panting hot and wet against Molly’s ear.   
  
“No bathhouse,” Molly laments as a knot of fire tightens and tightens in his belly, like a scorching ray ready to burst.   
  
“Another time,” Fjord says and drags him back for a kiss, one that tangles tongues and clacks teeth and bruises Molly’s lips.   
  
Molly groans, pleasure radiating up his spine, making his tail lash wildly. He pulls out, lest he make a mess, and ruts hard and fast against Fjord. He comes too quickly, splattering Fjord with his come, joining the spill already decorating’s Fjord’s taut abdomen.   
  
Molly presses his forehead to Fjord’s, exchanging breaths, the scent of sex and salt and swamp surrounding them. Sweat paints their skin, and after the strain of the day, exhaustion tugs at him. Wobbly knees defeat Molly, and he tips over to the side before he collapses on top of Fjord, potentially crushing his tender bits.   
  
He draws in heavy breaths, throws one leg over Fjord’s, and tips his head against Fjord’s shoulder. “We’re definitely doing that again. Preferably when I haven’t exhausted myself fighting a swamp troll.”  
  
Fjord laughs, though it’s a bit raspy. “Agreed.” He pulls the pillow from beneath his hip, tugs off the case, and uses the worn burlap to wipe off his belly. He balls it up, tossing it to the floor.   
  
“I admire your creativity,” Molly says with a tired chuckle. “Though a bath would be infinitely better.”   
  
“There is no bath I’d try in Berleben,” Fjord murmurs.   
  
“Good point.” Molly rests a hand on Fjord’s belly, teasing the happy trail of hair, gathering up a stray drop of come Fjord had missed in his haphazard cleaning. He rubs it between his fingers because he can.   
  
“What are you doing?” Fjord mumbles, sounding even sleepier than before. His eyes are hooded, his body lax.   
  
Molly grins. “Re-testing my theory.” He pops his finger into his mouth to clean it. “Still tastes like seawater.”   
  
“Gods.” Fjord groans and slaps his hand over his face. “I really wish that would just go ahead and die.”   
  
Chuckling, Molly slips off the bed. “Not anytime soon, sweetheart.” He sweeps his tapestry off his pack, shakes it out, and douses the lantern.   
  
Darkness falls, broken only by the faint gleam of moonlight through the tacked up skins over the window, thin and tattered as they are. Dark vision is really helpful in times like these, keeping Molly from tripping over their discarded clothing and belongings.   
  
He rejoins Fjord on the bed, draping the tapestry over both of them, and tucks himself against Fjord’s side. A lithe half-orc arm curls under his shoulders, keeping him close, so that they are a tangle of limbs and tapestry. Probably not the wisest, considering how often Jester likes to burst into their room to wake them, but an indulgence.   
  
“Perhaps Hupperdook will have bathhouses,” Molly muses aloud.   
  
Fjord’s soft laugh splits the darkness. “You seem to have only one thing on your mind.”   
  
“I have, in fact, many things on my mind, this just happens to be the most pressing,” Molly replies, barely above a murmur. He slides a palm over Fjord’s belly, where the strange orb had vanished without a trace. “And whenever you want to talk more about yours, you know where to find me.”   
  
“And I will. Just… not right now,” Fjord says.   
  
“Fair enough.” Molly pats him on the belly and closes his eyes. “Sleep now, lover. We have a long journey ahead of us still.”   
  
Fjord turns his head, brushing a kiss over Molly’s forehead. “Night.”   
  
*

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is ever so much welcome and appreciated!


End file.
